


All Hands On Deck

by Singerdiva01



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singerdiva01/pseuds/Singerdiva01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two former deck hands help the former president with an awkward chamalla induced problem on New Caprica. (Written for the 2014 LJ Multi-Ship War)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hands On Deck

Galen thought the former president was dead when he spotted her lying motionless near Colonial One. The drab fabric of her detention uniform was soaked through with blood, the old dried spots mirroring the shade of her hair while the fresh ones clashed. He wondered, in the few steps it took to reach her side, how he was ever going to tell the Admiral his lover’s body had been deposited, broken, outside her former ship as a message to those who even thought of supporting the resistance. 

He turned her gently, just to make sure, and jumped back in surprise when Roslin moaned pitifully and her green eyes fluttered open. She stared at him, uncomprehending, and started muttering incoherently about a baby. He thought of Nicky as he ever so gently nestled the small woman into his arms and rushed her to Cottle, wincing with each step that caused her to cry out. 

Cottle and Ishay spent hours cleaning the cuts dotting the former president’s body and wrapped her broken ribs with care. The old doctor reported, worryingly without his usual sarcasm, that the most lethal threat facing his patient was the absurd amounts of chamalla the Cylons had pumped into her system. 

Roslin drifted in and out of consciousness for three days, thankfully unaware or at least somewhat numbed, due to the last stores of morpha Cottle injected through her IV. Then the Cylons came to the medical tent looking for her and Galen and other members of the resistance had only minutes to roughly jerk the needles out of her arms and carry her, under the cover of darkness, to the safety of the caves. 

Cally cried when they carried the former president inside. The two women had become unlikely friends after Roslin held her hand during early labor, waved off any inconvenience when Cally puked on her shoes during transition, and then held one leg while Galen held the other for the four hours Cally had to struggle to bring Nicky into the world. 

Therefore, neither Tyrol minded giving up part of their makeshift pallet to the injured president. Cally wet cloths to stroke across her brow as she suffered through withdrawals and Galen held her gently but firmly against the bed when she writhed, screaming and lost in dreams, to prevent her from pulling more stitches or agitating her fractured ribs. 

On the second night in the caves both Galen and Cally were woken by the frantic movements of the woman nestled between them for safety and warmth. Galen’s eyes went wide as he realized Roslin was lost in some chamalla dream that had her trying desperately to get off. The movements that had woken them were her hand working valiantly between her legs. There was already blood seeping through her gown where stitches had ripped from the motion.

He met his wife’s eyes and Cally nodded resolutely before scooting up to take her place near Roslin’s head. She dropped gentle kisses across her brow and cheeks and stopped close to her ear. 

“It’s ok, Laura. It’s alright. Try to stay still, we’re going to help you. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” she cooed reassuringly.

Meanwhile Galen worked his fingers into the former president’s panties and found her clit, almost comically engorged. He stroked it gently without looking, a muscle memory kicking in almost like he was working on a Viper. The subject of his touch moaned and bucked and Cally continued to mutter comforting words while kissing all the skin she could find that wasn’t covered in cuts and bruises. 

Roslin’s earsplitting scream echoed off the cave walls when she came and Galen looked up to see his wife suckling the president’s nipple, the obvious impetus for this loud release. He didn’t have much time to think on that before she dropped the breast and ordered him to take his position to cradle Laura through the throes. 

Finally Roslin stilled and slumped deep into the blankets, silent and seemingly comfortable for the first time in days. 

Cally smiled proudly at him over her body but never stopped gently stroking Laura’s hair. 

“Some way to have our first threesome, huh?”


End file.
